Unbeing Dead isn't Being Alive
by Daughter of the Black
Summary: DexterxBTVS Buffy tends to meet the most interesting people, working at the Miami Metro Police Department will be no different. What happens when she ends up neck deep in a murder investigation that she can help? BuffyDex pairing possibly.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own…sadly

A/N: This is post season one of Dexter and Post season seven Buffy.

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To fake it is to stand guard over emptiness.  
-Arthur Herzog

_Dexter's POV_

It was an odd day to say the least. Masuka had dragged me from my homey little lab and my self-pity, to a meeting. Matthews was standing in the main conference room, the new lieutenant at his side, and a stranger standing off to the side.

"Due to recent events, our great state's governor has decided that a councilor would do wonders in our lives. Dr. Summers is not only a very bright psychologist. She is also a skilled profiler, a talent she's put at our disposal. I expect full cooperation from everyone. Thank you, dismissed."

I hung back with Masuka. I assumed the blonde woman who had scanned the crowd at the captain spoke was this Summers woman. If she really was good, I was just going to have to be better.

Masuka shouldered me, "Dex, did you get your time slot yet?"

I quirked an eyebrow, "Time slot?"

Vince sighed and rolled his eyes, "You're always a step behind, man. You know that huge empty space on the second floor? Well the governor had it transformed into an office for her, think she's got him all tied up?"

I wanted to gag at the obvious innuendo, but smirked and chuckled instead, "I don't know, the whole area?"

He nodded emphatically, "Yep, anyway, yesterday she sent out the letters for who was meeting with her today."

"Why do we have to meet with her," I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets.

"I guess that the governor wasn't too thrilled with how the Ice Truck killer case was handled, so he wants to make sure everybody is fit to do their jobs."

Maybe this would be good for Deb. She hadn't looked particularly pleased during the meeting. I, on the other hand, was not ready to delve back into my subconscious. My last visit with the "Good Doctor" had left me with unwanted memories and ultimately led me to my brother-and his death. I could only hope that Summers wasn't as intuitive as Captain Matthews believed her to be.

Masuka slapping my shoulder dragged me back to the real world, "Hey Dexter, you okay, you looked a little spacey for a minute. Jealous I get the first round with Dr. Sexy?"

I hissed in mock pain, my eyes going wide, "I'll suffer through it. Go have fun, Vince."

"Will do," he walked off, headed for the elevator.

I exhaled unhappily, moving over towards my sister, "Hey Deb, what's up?"

She scowled at me definitely angry, "What do you think is _up_, Dexter. We have to have psych evaluations. I kind of don't want to share my feelings with some stuck up blonde who looks way too good for a doctor."

I wrapped one arm around her shoulder tentatively, "Alright, put the heavy artillery away, take comfort in hoping that she'll quit after she meets Masuka which would be now."

Deb half smiled, "Maybe, but what if she asks about…it?"

"Look, Deb, this could be good for you. If you don't feel like talking about it just bring up something else, like Masuka's need to have sex with everything, living and not, and how it's damaging your mental health," I smiled when her small grin brightened to a full out beam.

"What would I do without you, Dex," she asked me, wrapping an arm around my waist.

I shrugged, "On a street corner in an orange tube top?"

She pulled away and smacked me sharply, "What? You asked!"

"I'm going to go work, away from you," it was playful, but she still walked away from me.

"Oh, come on, Deb, I was kidding," I called after her. All I got was her middle finger waving at me from over her head.

I smiled, that was my sister, crass as always. Now on to more pressing issues, finding out who my newest play toy was, "Summers", not much to go on, but I wasn't Harry's son for nothing.

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So ends the first chapter of the multi-chapter story. I am kind of playing with styles, but I am pretty sure this story will switch points of view. Any and all feedback is greatly appreciated, I am actually very excited to have started this so please enjoy.


	2. Chapter 2

See first chapter for Disclaimer and time setting.

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Kinky is using a feather. Perverted is using the whole chicken.

-Unknown (and apparently for good reasons(it's the guy sitting behind you!))

_Vince Masuka's POV_

I rolled my head around my shoulders and cracked my fingers, ready for the first session. The new girl was hot, not like most of the ones I take home to feel something and be cool. No one really noticed that my vulgar comments were half hearted and my socializing a little too forced. No one seemed to notice I was playing a part-trying to stick a square peg into a round hole while searching for the square hole.

Swallowing again I knocked on the door, the cool oak of the door was different than the rest of this building. Her office had not interior windows, and the walls were deafeningly thick.

The door swung wide after a moment and her bright smile met my eyes, "Vince Masuka, right?"

My mouth was dry. I was never really comfortable with this sort of intimacy, "Uh, yeah."

She moved back, exposing a richly furnished room, the colors were deep burgundy and creamy blacks. The focal point of the room was a dark green chaise and a black chair. Even though the lights were bright, the darkness of the room just swallowed the light up.

"Come on in, you can call me Buffy, may I call you Vince?"

I followed her to the center of the room, she sat down in the black chair and I was left to the velvet lounge, "Yeah."

She smiled again, "Now, I just want to go over some ground details. First off, nothing you say in this room will go beyond me. It won't go in reports or evaluations. What you tell me will go towards a conclusion of how you are working with others and dealing with your job. Second, this doesn't have to be about work. Every aspect of your life plays into how you do your job, my goal is to make sure you are in peak condition. Do you understand?"

"Mhmm," I wasn't quit sure where she was headed with this.

She crossed her legs, and brushed a loose lock of hair from her face, "From all that I've read about you I understand you are a very competent worker, although are several notes about your behavior being a little, to be blunt, gross."

There goes the swallowing again. I should have known she would hit on that first. I wasn't sure what to say.

"I'm not really concerned about that. I just wanted to let you know what I know about you. What we're going to do for the next fifteen minutes is purely beginner stuff."

A million and one innuendos sprung to my lips from practice but I held them back.

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, just answer honestly. Do you have an organization system?"

"Yes."

"Do you go out of your way to be liked?"

What the hell, "Sometimes."

It went on like that basic questions about social behavior, I could guess where it was going, but I didn't particularly care. Personality tests are all imprecise. What could it really say…oh yeah, that I'm a freak.

Truth be told she's nice, almost too nice-like she's hiding something too-though that might be the paranoia setting in. I walked out of her office trying to analyze my own answers to Buffy's questions. Morgan, the hot Morgan, passed me in the hall, looking worse than I probably did. Then again, I had never fucked a serial killer…or have I….no definitely hadn't. I liked freaks in the sack, but that was just a bit too freaky.

When I sat down back in the lab Dexter immediately sat across from me, "So?"

I looked up from fiddling with my microscope, "So, what?"

"What is she like, is she good?"

I quirked a brow at him and snickered, "Do you want me to answer that?"

He frowned, well as much as Dexter frowns, "Just answer the questions."

"Fine. She's nice, really nice. She has degrees from Cambridge and Oxford not to mention some of the minor schools in the U.S. like UCLA and Ohio State. There were also some commendations from the British government and a picture of her shaking hands with the freaking president of the U.S., Dex, she's good."

I watched his face go slightly pinched before he sighed, "I just hope she can help Deborah and isn't a homicidal maniac."

I inhaled, "I doubt that tight piece of ass could hurt a fly."

He got up and started to walk away but turned back to me for a second, "Okay, I hope she hopes Deb _and_ you and that sick mind."

I shrugged, "C'est la vie, Morgan, c'est la vie!"

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I didn't get a lot of feedback on the first chapter, but that hasn't discouraged me yet. Next chapter we get to see Deborah and Buffy. More of Buffy in the next one, I just need to get Vince out of the way. Buffy and Dex with have the primary POV in this story.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Please review all feedback welcome.

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Courage is not the absence of fear, but simply moving on with dignity despite that fear.

-Unknown

_Buffy's POV_

I shifted in my chair, glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and sighed. Captain Matthews had given me notes on several of the employees, Deborah Morgan being one of them. So far Ms. Morgan was five minutes late and counting. My last appointment, Vince Masuka, something about him is off. He reminded me a little of Spike, and a little of my earlier boyfriends-always trying to be macho.

A knock at the door interrupted my less than pleasant thoughts. It seemed Morgan had finally gotten the guts to show up. I rose and moved to the door, opening it to reveal a flushed young woman in a semi wrinkled pant-suit.

"You must be Deborah Morgan?"

She was skittish, her tongue flicking out to moisten her lips several times before shakily nodding her head and stepping inside, her hands clutched to the point of whiteness in front of her.

"Call me Buffy, the whole title thing makes me feel old…and stuffy. Something I desperately wish to avoid," I smiled hopefully at the thin brunette.

She gave me a half smile in return and kind of stared at the green velvet couch, "I feel like I walked into a Freudian nightmare."

I could help but let out a small chuckle, "I'm afraid I got most of my decorating sense from a stodgy old librarian friend of mine, he is very English. It grows on you after ten eleven years."

At last she settled down onto the lounge, I sat down in my chair as well, I made a mental note that she kept her body tense. Textbook approach wouldn't work for Deborah.

The silence went on for a moment until my patient scratched the back of her neck, "Um, you can call me Deborah or Deb. Whatever."

I smiled, "Okay, Deb. So, I here you have a brother, what's that like. I have a younger sister who is an absolute pain in the ass."

Her face darkened at the beginning of my sentence but then her eyebrows raised, "oh-ho. You're not like any therapist I've met before."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I try. I've been in your position before."

She looked almost shocked, but more guarded than before, "Yeah, sure. What happened?"

"I was attacked when I was 15 almost 16. I kept having dreams about it and finally my parents committed me to an institute. They kept me hopped on drugs until I really did start to go crazy," I sighed she wasn't going to tell me about what was going on in that head of hers.

Deb swallowed, her skin and bones frame relaxing minimally, "That had to suck."

I nodded, "So, tell me about your relationship with your brother."

There was an almost eye roll, "He's Dexter, everybody's favorite. Our Dad never really paid attention to me, only Dexter. I love him to death, but he doesn't talk to me. It's like I'm some piece of furniture to him, convenient to rest your coffee cup on but not much good for anything else."

"You feel like he isn't there for you when you need it. You want him to open up to you to affirm that you two are a family," I asked, carefully watching Deb.

She sat forward, "Exactly. Dex is all I really have left. I mean Mom and Dad are both dead, and it's just Dex and me, except a lot of the time I feel like it's just me."

"Understandable, have you tried talking to him about this?"

"Yeah, I got the stone cold shoulder and the "I'm fine" routine. Like just before summer Dex flipped at a crime scene. He does blood and this should have been easy for him. He came out of there looking like he just chucked up green eggs and ham. He said it was low blood sugar, that's bullshit. Then he goes and chats up my fiancé instead of me!"

I bit the inside of my cheek, she seemed to recoil at her own words, "Tell me about this guy," I already knew, but I wanted her story.

She shot from her seat, "Look, I don't feel like talking about it okay."

I waited a moment, "That's fine, we don't have to talk about it."

"I'm fine," she wasn't hearing me anymore.

I stood up and moved right in front of her, "Deborah, you're not fine."

Her eyes snapped to mine, the brown glittering dangerously, "Yeah, and how the hell would you know!"

"You remind me of me. I'm not going to push you, but if you keep this bottled up it is only going to hurt you, and maybe other people," her lip was pushed out in stubbornness, something I remember from my "Anne" stage.

She exhaled deeply, "Yeah, right."

"What have you been doing to let off steam?"

"Working out."

I grinned, "My kind of girl. Smart too. Channeling that into something productive, but you have to be careful."

She laughed, "Yeah, my brother's been saying that too."

What Deborah said seemed final, "Look, nothing you've said today will go beyond me, and that is my standing rule. I'm here to make sure you're okay. I may be kind of young and blonde, but I have a lot of experience with the kind of crap you're dealing with."

"Right," she seemed to remember I was there to make sure she was capable.

We walked towards the door, "Deb, anytime you're ready to talk. Even if you need to just need a friend, no doctor, you know a getaway from Dear Saint Dexter."

Her already large eyes got larger and her mouth curved upwards in nearly silent laughter, "Saint Dexter, oh god, I'm using that. Sorry I kind of flipped out on you."

I waved my hand in dismissal, "Hey, minor on the Buffy scale. Next time remind me to tell you about the time I took a sledgehammer to teaching skeleton when I was 16."

Her eyes were sparkling, "I will. I'm bringing coffee in tomorrow morning, how do you want yours?"

"Black, like the guy I went out with on one date," I announced proudly.

Deb walked away down the hall considerably lighter than when she had walked in. She did remind me of me, scary as it was, I was positive that if she didn't come to terms she would self-destruct just like I pretty much did.

Whoever knew the hellmouth would provide me with such an excellent base of experience in the real world. Eh, life was weird. I'd decided to quit trying to figure that out around the time Dawn came around. Oh, Crap, I forgot to call Dawnie this morning to tell her I hadn't been killed by Columbian drug lords…she was going to kill me.

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Okay, thanks for the reviews, I made this chapter longer, the first two were kind of just edging into the story but now we've really started. Next Buffy actually meets Dex. Hehehe.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: See chapter one.

A/N: See chapter one, I don't remember if I mentioned it, but this will have major spoilers for Season two. (Italics are thoughts) (Bold actual answers) the first bit

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To fake it is to stand guard over emptiness.

-Arthur Herzog

_Dexter's POV_

Harry taught me something a long time ago. Lie, think what I would say, the real Dexter, then say the exact opposite, tell them what they want to hear. Be normal.

1. Do you suspect that others are exploiting, harming or deceiving you?

_Everyone lies, and hurts others._ **No**

2. Do you persistently bear grudges and not forget insults or injuries?

_Only against my victims._ **No**

3. Do you almost always choose solitary activities?

_Not all are solitary, my favorite activity requires at least two. _**No**

4. Do you feel indifferent to praise or criticism of others?

_Harry was the only one I wanted to accept me. _**No**

5. Do you experience recurrent strange day dreams or fantasies?

_That would be telling. How else am I supposed to pass the day, hand saw dear hand saw. _**No**

6. Do you experience magical thinking that influences your behavior?

_I'm not Angel, I don't wish. I do. _**No**

7. Do you repeatedly get into conflicts with the law?

_The law gets in conflict with my work._ **No**

8. Before age 18, have you been cruel to people or animals?

_It's like she knows, like she's seen into my darkest memories. _**No**

9. Do you have a pattern of unstable and intense relationships with others?

_Actually this one I can answer honestly…I think. _**No**

10. Do you have continuous feelings of emptiness?

_Well from the time I was rescued by adoptive father…Duh_ **No**

11. Do you feel uncomfortable in situations where you are not the center of attention?

_Definitely not!_ **No**

12. Are you easily influenced by others or are you suggestible?

_Not so much._ **No**

13. Are you generally envious of other people?

_Yes, they don't have something crawling through their veins, gnawing at their insides. _**No**

14. Are you preoccupied with unlimited success or ideal love?

_No, I want to be normal, but I know that what I am, I will never be normal. _**No**

15. Are you unwilling to get involved with people unless you are certain of being liked?

_No, it makes life easier if people like me, they don't suspect me then._ **No**

16. Do you view yourself as socially inept, personally unappealing or inferior to others?

_I think I fake it rather well, at least I think so. Maybe I should ask Doakes sometime-yeah right. _**No**

17. Do you have a difficulty making everyday decisions without an excessive amount of advice and reassurance from others?

_Wow, not at all, and they were so close to having a good list of Dexter Characteristics. _**No**

18. Are you preoccupied with fears of being left to take care of yourself?

_Not so much, sure I preferred it when Harry was alive, it made it easier. _**No**

19. Are you preoccupied with details, rules, lists, order, organization, or schedules?

_Harry's Code demands perfection, to be in control_. **No**

20. Are you such a perfectionist that it interferes with your work?

_Perfectionism only helps me in my work. _**No**

39 days and counting since I killed my brother, I haven't been able to play right since then. Last night was a disaster, I had him at my mercy, he was mine, and then I couldn't do it. I need to focus, I'm sitting across from someone who could unmask me at any moment.

The moment she had ushered me in she had given me a laughable spiel about confidence. I didn't believe it, she was being paid to make sure we were competent, she would air our dirty laundry with pleasure I'm sure.

She looks like she would be more comfortable on a beach than in an office decorated darkly. She was pretty and nice, Vince was right about that. It seemed Deb had already warmed up to her, they were chatting by her desk this morning. Deb needs this, and for that reason, I need not to get caught.

I looked up from the questionnaire Buffy, as I was to call her, had given me, "I'm finished."

She smiled and leaned forward to grab the page from me, her hair long blonde hair swung in front of her face, eyes sparkling, just like my mother.

"Alright, I'd like to talk about Deb," she didn't even look at my "Yes or No" test.

"Okay, what about her?"

She cocked her head at an angle, almost like she was laughing at me, "I mean your relationship. You love her don't you, she's the only family you have."

"Of course," wow, maybe she wasn't that bright.

"I have a younger sister named Dawn, when she was 15 she was kidnapped by a cult and I went through hell to find her. She hated me for the longest time because I wouldn't tell her what was on my mind, I wanted to protect her, I didn't want her to see just who her big sister was. You know?"

Crap, she was going to suggest family counseling, "A bit. Deb told you I don't really talk to her."

"Might have mentioned it," curiously she wasn't pushing me to be touchy feely-yet.

"What's your suggestion, a big powwow with a sharing stick?"

I bright grin cracked her professional manner, "A friend of mine had to go through sensitivity training, it was awful afterwards, he kept apologizing for everything. When he walked too loud, being too tall, he even apologized after choking on a piece of bread. After that I won't recommend that to anyone."

"That is a little weird," she certainly had a lot of anecdotes that fit.

"Deb is living with you right now, correct," I nodded, "Why not do a movie night. Leave all work at the door. Not real talking required, just some together time. When that seems to be good, move it to a dinner or an activity. Not all family's do well with the sharing caring thing, goodness knows mine doesn't. Oh, little tip, don't get a cop or forensic movie, you'll both end up bashing it."

Movie, I could do movie, couldn't I, "That seems way too easy to get me off the hook with Deb."

Buffy grinned again, "Dexter, sometimes the best solutions are the simplest. So do you like your job?"

Left field question from the last topic, "I suppose, it gets sickening at times but, what can you do."

"Understandable. Dexter, I'm not concerned about your job. I am concerned about you and your sister. I've encouraged Deb to come see me whenever she wants it, but for some reason I have a feeling you're a bit of sorts as well."

That startled me, I thought I was in the clear, smooth sailing, but then she has to say that, "Oh, well, I'm just really worried about Deb," I let out a deep breath, and fake being upset.

She shifted in her chair, "You're lying, and F.Y.I. you're kind of a crappy one."

I could feel my muscles tense, did she really know, or was this just some psycho-bullshit.

"You admitted it too easily, like you had it floating there for use. You don't have to tell me what's bothering you, just talk to me," okay, so she was good, this was going to make my life harder.

"Sergeant Doakes has been insinuating I don't know what about me, and tailing me for more than a month. I'm on edge okay, I can't be alone. If I go out, Doakes is there, if I go home, Deb is there. If I come to work Doakes is here," I rubbed the heels of my hands' against my eyes. She couldn't tell if I was omitting things, could she.

I dared a glance at her, she sat there, relaxed, I could tell, her muscles were well defined under the tight grey shirt she wore.

"This is good. You need to let it out. If you keep it bottled up its like adding mentos to coke, you'll explode. With Deborah depending on you for support, you need to know what's going on inside that head of yours."

I could tell she wanted to say something else, but the phone rang and she rose like a cat to answer it, "Dr. Summers, Lieutenant, of course. Thank you. I'll tell him."

She moved around her desk and slid her things into a drawer, "I'm sorry but we have to cut this short. I'll review what we did today and talk to you tomorrow or something. Right now, you have a crime scene to get to, and so do I."

This was odd, "You're going?"

"Lieutenant Pascal wants me to observe Deborah to make sure she's ready to be on active duty again. Which I interpreted as LaGuerta mentioned it and she decided to take advice," Buffy answered me as she moved towards a closet door.

She showed me out of her office and followed me down the stairs, keys and apparently, a gun more than ten minutes prior.

Trying to remember the normal thing to do I smiled, "Would you like a ride down to the scene?"

She looked me over as we rode in the elevator, "Okay."

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Yay, new chapter. Next chapter we get to see Buffy's thoughts on Dexter. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

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In every man's heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused

Disclaimer: See first chapter

A/N: Please review, all feedback welcome.

In every man's heart there is a devil, but we do not know the man as bad until the devil is roused.

-James Oliver Curwood

_Buffy's POV_

The smell was stifling, sweat, nervous, fearful sweat. Death too, like drying blood and salty tears. What was worse it wasn't Dexter's scent that was overpowering me. No, he was only a faint reading on my senses, the other things had settled into the fabric and metal of the car.

Forcing my body to stay still I flashed a half grin at Dexter who returned it with one of his almost smiles. The smile that was really more of a grimace. Dexter had exactly two looks, indifferent and mock cheerfulness. I had yet to see him break into a full blown grin-maybe he never would.

The session that had been interrupted had been interesting to say the least, yeah, interesting was a good word. I had seen him from afar, hulking like Riley, like Angel. Silent and stone faced like Angel as well. He was tanned brown hair highlighted blonde from the sun, and golden brown eyes not as dark as Angel's.

The slayer in her pointed out every similarity to everyone she could remember having met. The strong features, the silence, the almost hunched walk, the glances cast seemingly pointlessly, it was all so odd.

It didn't take the education she had worked on for years to note his suspicions or intent to lie. It only takes seven years of hell on the hellmouth. He looked out of place in the sunny corridor, which was dispelled as he stepped into my shadow realm. Despite what I had told Deborah, I loved my office, it was warm. It reminded me of the night, of the safety of knowing who I was-am.

For a human Dexter had a surprisingly strong grasp. As he shook my hand, he looked down at me and our eyes met. It isn't the cliché moment that Angel and I had shared. This was enough to almost make me pull away from him. His eyes… The window to the soul saying is crap. I learned that a long time ago, with Spike. Dexter had Spike's eyes. Not in color or shape, or even in luminosity. Dexter's eyes held the horror of the world, something I too saw when I looked in the mirror.

I blinked slowly, drawing myself from my thoughts, the ominous feeling in the car receding with my reverie. The daylight was blinding in this situation and I longed for the blanket of darkness.

"So, Buffy, you seem to have accomplished so much for being so young," his grip on the steering wheel was tight enough to make his knuckles lighten in coloration.

"I'm 27, 28 in January. Not that young," truth was I still looked 22 or 23, not much had changed from when I had taken down The First. I'd attribute it to aging gracefully, the slayer in me blamed Willow and one dozen too many spells.

Don't think he expected that, his brow twitched, neck corded, I could tell he wanted to look at me, but he didn't.

At last we pulled to a stop and I had to restrain myself from launching myself from the car and heaving to get the last of the tainted air from my lungs. Instead I thanked him and waved before retreating over to LaGuerta and Doakes.

I tracked the dark man's eyes-he followed Dexter-perhaps Mr. Morgan had told me a partial truth today.

Surveying the scene I saw three distressing things, the crowd that had members intent on my patient, the lax security, and the bloodied body lying in view of anyone.

I slipped my sunglasses on, a trick I had learned a while back, no one could see me watching them if they couldn't see my eyes. Pushing my hair back I rotated my head to gaze at Angel Batista, despite the names, my Angel had nothing in common with this bubbly Hispanic. Angel was calling Doakes over and waving broadly at the scene, Dex and Vince were making their way down to the body.

"Heard your sister is back on the job already-is she in any kind of shape," Masuka asked, huffing slightly at the climb down.

Watching carefully I noted Dex's brow scrunch for a second before relaxing, "Well, you know Deb, nothing gets her down."

Despite carrying a heavy case, Vince managed to make some exasperated arm gestures, "No, I mean did she pack on any pounds while she was gone? Cause last time I saw her she was tight."

Dexter was saved from having to answer because they had reached the body. I observed my new curiosity for a few minutes more. From all accounts he was always on top of his game. Today he was missing obvious things, his lens cap, his foot in a blood puddle-something wasn't right. He seemed disconcerted at his own mistakes-well covered frustration.

Rolling my shoulders back I tucked my arms underneath my chest after removing my sunglasses. I meandered over towards Deborah who was interviewing the man who had found our poor gang victim. Keeping my distance I saw the shield had worn down already, her face showing the joy at working. Her body belied her keen disposition. She kept her back to the crowd, shifting to keep herself from facing them. She stood legs shoulder width apart-defensively.

Shit, things were going from not so good to bad quite quickly, two of the crowd were calling out to her, egging her on. I could tell she heard them because her voice tightened and wavered. Edging closer I flashed my badge at the cop guarding the perimeter before moving towards Deb.

"Hey, Mrs. Ice Truck Killer, turn around, look scared for the camera!" one of the guys called.

LaGuerta was keeping an eye on Deb as well. She seemed to be debating whether or not to do something about the hecklers. Camera flashes were going off at the willowy brunette, she swung around and I slid my arm through hers, anchoring her to my side.

"Come on, just look scared for the camera," the other guy called as he moved to get a better angle.

"Hey look, Mrs. Ice Truck Killer has a hot friend. Come on babes, smile pretty then scream like he's back!"

I felt Deb pull at my hold, I squeezed her wrist lightly, "Let's give them a picture, besides, they've probably never even seen a real woman before."

It seemed to snap the cop out of her rage and she half smiled at me, "Yeah."

We leaned together and the boys took their picture, before thanking us. LaGuerta smiled at me before moving back to talking with Doakes. I walked Deb over to her car and handed her a bottle of water.

"You can't let them get to you, I know it is hard, and it hurts, but I know you love this job, and you have to work through this if you want to be a good cop," I looked right into her eyes, they were a little too glossy, a tell tears were threatening.

She nodded and took a deep swallow of water.

"By the way, Masuka thinks you look hot," she made a face, her mouth twisting up in disgust and she choked out a laugh.

"Oh god, never ever say that while I'm drinking!"

"And I think Doakes has a little crush on Dear Dex," i tried desperately to keep a straight face.

Again her face twisted, this time her eyes squeezing half shut and brow crinkling despite the smile on her lips, "Thank you very much for that imagery, Buffy."

I grinned widely, something pre-glory Buffy might have done, "Glad to be of…service."

Deborah rose and pushed me slightly, "God, shut up! This is me walking away to try and get that out of my head!"

She moved away, a smile on her face-a real smile-mission accomplished. I could feel my own grin making my cheeks ache a little, maybe this friendship would be good for the both of us.

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Hey, sorry this took some time, I had several tests to take the last week and I didn't have much time to write. So here is chapter five. Hope you all enjoyed.


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